


An Old Debt Repaid, and A New Alliance Made

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 21:51:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14656932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When the local member of Clan O'Donnell decides Garrison's guys are the fit recipient of a past-due debt owed her cousin Maeve, Maeve's Bondmate Liam and his teammates, the beginning of a new alliance is formed.   What debt?  Details of that will be outlined in more detail in an upcoming story 'Interlude' under the Hogan's Heroes saga, The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk.





	1. Chapter 1

Meghada wove her way thru the maze of corridors of the building she had been sent to, now in search of a way out. Her mission had been completed, the contents of the safe secured inside her shirt and her exit well underway when she had caught sight of the three shadowy figures in the outside hall. Pushing herself into an alcove housing a pedestal with a classical statue on top, {"Athena, I think"}, she thought absently; she waited til they passed, her knife clasped firmly and ready. Hearing their murmurs, her brows lifted in surprise. {"English??" They are speaking in English?"} And that voice, the woman's voice, seemed so familiar! Listening, she realized from their whispered words that they had planted explosives and were hurrying now to safety. Just then two guards came around the corner, heading straight at the trio, and furious fighting broke out. Suddenly another two Germans broke onto the melee from the rear. Quickly coming to a decision, Meghada came out of hiding, her blade swinging forward to bite into the spine of one, and then around into the gut of the other, taking them down. Coming up from a crouch, she found herself with bloody knife, facing the Allied agents, and felt a tinge of relief as she saw recognition in the eyes of Lynn Garrison, saw her motion her two companions to 'stand down'. Nodding to each other, the two women led the way from the manor house at a dead run, racing to escape the coming blast. 

Later, at the Safe House Lynn had led them to, Meghada inquired quietly, "Who sent you, and why?", knowing all the while that her chances of getting an answer were slim. Many groups were involved in fighting Hitler's forces, many directed by Allied Command, but others working independently; either way, caution prevented the flow of much free information between the groups. Lynn eyed the familiar figure in front of her, seeing the same dark red hair, calm brown eyes that she'd seen when they had last crossed paths at the farm market in Brandonshire, seeing her now in a totally different light. The smiling girl in high collared loose blouse and long full skirt, carefully selecting items to add into her wire basket, was a far cry from the tense fighter clad in solid black sitting on her heels beside Lynn now.

{"Should have known,"} thought Lynn, {"should have at least considered the possibility; Jake says she only comes into The Doves once in a while, has a cottage at the outskirts of the village, but seems to be away a lot. Should have wondered why a young woman would be traveling as much as it seems she did, especially in the middle of a war."} At the market, Goniff had nodded and grinned at her, saying, "Well, 'ello again!", like they were frequent acquaintances. On the way home, when I asked, he told me she'd be at the pub sometimes, but would just smile and turn down any offers from anyone to buy her a pint. "Don't really mix with the crowd," he chattered, "just settles down by 'erself at a table to the rear, facing the entrance, slowly working on that single shot of bourbon she'd 'ave collected from the bar; don't seem to fancy beer at all. The local lads know not to push things, and the blokes from the base what don't know it, figure it out soon enough, one way or another, from what I've 'eard. Always watching everyone, though, cautious like." He'd added, "She never seems put out when things get out of 'and, just gets back out of the way when things start flying", nodding his approval. "Sometimes 'ear her singing at her cottage, if I go round that way. 'As a right nice voice, she does, and knows lots of different songs," though not explaining how he was around the woman so much as to know just how many songs she knew. She'd gotten the feeling that there was more Goniff could have said, but had decided against sharing. Lynn considered carefully. How much to tell her now, that was the question. 

"There was information, plans, in a safe, too dangerous to leave in the hands of the Germans. We were told it was a new kind of safe, pretty impossible to open, no time to plan a con, we'd have to blow the whole building."

Meghada nodded, jaw quirked to one side, lips tense. "Information, plans were there; I got them out."

Lynn's eyes widened at the news, and raised her brows in inquiry.

"Safe was challenging, but hardly impossible. Wonder why . . . And strange, us both being after the same target, on the same side, but with different intel. What're the odds??" Lynn was wondering the same thing, herself, and knew she'd be raising some questions at HQ, knowing she'd probably get no real answers besides the usual, "mistakes happen, fortunes of war, you know that. Wouldn't make too much of it, Miss Garrison."

A Decision Made:

A few weeks later, Lynn accompanied the guys down to The Doves; Craig was on a mission, who knows where, and barring a pass to London a trip to the local pub was the best way to reward her wayward cons for their continued good behavior. As they entered, she saw a familiar red head in the far corner, alone at a small table. Lynn glanced over at Actor, saying, "Get the large table over there, okay?" Not waiting for an answer or acknowledging the questioning glances from her companions, she made her way over to Meghada, looked down into the calm eyes and smiled amusedly, "Join us, why don't you? You already know Goniff, think you'd find the other guys good company too, you know."

Eyebrows raised, the other woman leaned back in her chair, glancing at the round table now seating the four men already bantering loudly with each other. Finally she quirked up the side of her mouth, just a little, "you might be right," picking up her glass and slowly coming to her feet. Wondering if she was making a big mistake, feeling strangely like she was marching toward a destiny she was unprepared for, she followed Lynn to the table, settling into the chair Casino had cheerfully yanked out for her. This felt, right, somehow, and settled down to enjoy herself; throughout the loud, frequently hilarious evening, she observed each of the participants stealthily.

Casino, stocky and dark-haired, was the loudest and most aggressive, verbally challenging and taunting each of the others in turn, but never really being mean about it. Chief, the youngest, was the quiet one, with haunted eyes; each motion was careful and controlled. She thought if he did lose his control, he would also perhaps be the most dangerous one and that was certainly the impression he seemed to be trying to make, {"probably a good defense mechanism"}. Actor sat tall and slightly withdrawn from the others, as if saying smugly "I'm not really a part of this unseemly group, you know." She wondered if it was an act, or if he always maintained this slightly annoying air of superiority , and how the rest of the group dealt with it; she found it rather too much like Michael, her oldest brother's personality to really please her, though Lynn seemed to like him well enough, so there was probably much more to him than she was seeing. Well, there was to Michael, though it took a lot of digging to get him to show it.

Goniff was his usual cheeky self, chattering on about something or other, verbally poking at the others as they argued back and forth, blue eyes slyly looking to create mischief, though clearly pleased she'd joined the table. Him she knew best; she'd starting keeping a supply of tea, sugar and sweet biscuits on hand, to accommodate his random jack in the box appearances in her garden. Why he'd come over the wall the first time she didn't know, other than he said he'd heard her singing; why she'd let him stay, let him inside where it was well known no one but family was welcome, that was also a mystery, but now she watched for him and found herself smiling when she saw his head popping up over the stonework. {"Quite a bit older than he looks"} she thought, not for the first time, {"his smaller stature and body build, those misleadingly 'innocent' eyes, tumbled blond hair - that's what gives you that mistaken impression. A mask - he wears it well, but still, it's a mask."}

Looking around, she nodded to herself, {"They all wear masks, even Lynn."} She smiled to herself, {"Even as I, myself, wear a mask. Wonder what it'd be like, not to, not just at the cottage but elsewhere."} At the end of the evening, she accepted their offer of a lift back to her cottage; she'd been laughing when she helped Lynn in her efforts to guide the more than a little inebriated crew into the vehicle, laughing when she took her leave from them at her front door. Shaking her head, she watched them drive away, loud voices still blowing back to her on the wind; when WAS the last time she'd actually laughed??

The following day, she gave in to her curiosity, contacting her middle brother, Patrick, the one with all the resources into 'confidential' information and outright gossip. After he radio'd her later that afternoon, using the frequency known only to Clan and Clan-affiliates, she pondered what he'd given her, some of which she'd already known from her earlier research. Alcatraz, Leavenworth, Attica, Sing Sing - conman, safecracker, killer and wheelman, pickpocket and second-story man. Garrison, the Army Lieutenant-yet unmet, an enigma; his background and record seemed to point to being another like his father, a military officer as well, which would most certainly NOT be in his favor, in her view. But would a man like that, strictly military, respecting traditional military values, absorbed in his own goals, be willing, be capable of successfully leading a group like this? Was he another like that despicable Lieutenant Wilson, the one who had led a similar group, had led her cousin Maeve and the ones Wilson had described as 'expendables' into such disaster? She decided to reserve judgement til she'd met the man, til she knew more about his relationship with his team, though she'd noted what seemed to be casual affection within the group last night when his name came up.

She got up from the table, poured herself another cup of strong coffee; she rarely was that self-indulgent, usually saving the second cup to be warmed over for the afternoon, but the enclave shares had arrived this morning, and between getting them inventoried and stored away safely and her current self-imposed studies, what she was now considering, required her full attention and thus made the luxury allowable. Sitting back down, she pondered what Patrick had relayed about their past missions, their successes, their failures, their injuries, their rocky relationship with the military, the fact that they were extremely reluctant to leave any of their injured team members in the military or even the civilian medical facilities, knowing the care they'd receive was questionable at best. She knew they lived up at the Mansion, which garnered considerable resentment from the personnel on the military base; knew that they were well thought of by at least a goodly portion of the locals.

"Good lads, really, though a bit boisterous," was how her odd-job man Howie described them. "Not mean-like; we've a lot more trouble with the blokes from the base, especially over the lasses. We gets paid for anything they break, not like with the soldiers, and there's no hard feelings afterwards. The Lieutenant doesn't mix much, but then what officers have ever wanted to mix with us lot; for that matter, don't know as what we'd want them to anyways," he chuckled as he spat onto the dirt pathway. Certainly she had seen no animosity between the crowd down at The Doves and the cons, noteing that it seemed to be a guy thing, getting and giving a few punches in a bar fight with someone didn't necessarily mean there were any hard feelings.

She frowned off into space for awhile, considering the rest of what she'd garnered here and there. Rations destined for the Mansion being shorted or delayed, with resultant jokes and laughs from the Supply Sergeant's men on base. All in all, Meghada decided, it was time to extend an offer to Lynn, and thru her, the guys she had decided she rather liked. And if one face came her mind more readily than the others, well, that was her own business. Picking up the phone, she put thru a call to the Mansion, asking Lynn if she had time to come to the cottage, that there was something they needed to discuss.

 

An Offer Made:

Lynn put down the phone, frowning in concern as she glanced up the stairs toward the Common Room. Had she overlooked something from the prior night, had the guys done something she'd missed, something that had the redhead upset? Hadn't seemed like it when they'd left the woman at her cottage door, she'd been laughing and Lynn thought she'd enjoyed the evening. Still, her voice had sounded a bit strange on the phone, a bit strained. Maybe something had come to light about that mission they'd shared, some information about what caused the crossed wires? Shrugging, she yelled up the stairway, "Gotta go out for a bit, be back in time to get dinner together. Don't burn down the place while I'm gone." Laughs and catcalls came from the Common Room.

Craig stepped to the door of his office, "Where are you headed, just in case I need to reach you?"

"Don't worry, big brother, just into the village; be back soon." She grinned as she turned away. No, he wouldn't like that answer, but he needn't think he was going to know everything she got up to; if he had forgotten that from their childhood, it was more than time he remembered it..

Later that night in the privacy of her own room, she shook her head in wonder as she went back over the offer that had been made - not an out-in-the-open for all to see arrangement, no that wouldn't be good, probably, but a quiet, behind the scenes safety net for her and her guys. Access to food and supplies, to medical assistance - the areas where they were frequently shorted or worse. Lynn was in shock; her blurted out question of "But WHY? You don't know us, you don't owe us anything."

The redhead looked down at the table, then up, with a haunting sadness on her face. "A debt was owed by my family, my Clan - a debt to several, a debt unable to be repaid to many of those to whose it was owed. It is considered acceptable to balance the wheel by repaying that debt to others." A reluctant smile acknowledged, "Your guys seem exceptionally well fitted to be the recipients of that repayment." Lynn knew there was a story there, but one the woman wasn't ready to share. 

Lynn's pride had stung for a brief moment, but looking over, meeting Meghada's steady gaze, she knew she'd accept the offer, and gladly. She realized that the other woman hadn't been totally confident in how her offer would be received, and that she'd been quietly pleased and relieved at Lynn's answer; she also had gotten a hint that Meghada might be willing and able to render some assistance if her increasingly bad feelings about the ultimate intentions of the military to keep their bargain with the cons became reality. If Colonel Yates, General Freemont and some of the others had their way, she doubted the promised parole at the end of 'duration plus six months' would happen; increasingly, the opinion of those officers seemed to be that, in spite of their many successful missions, these men were not just expendable, but were disposable.

Firmly she nodded to herself, {"I won't go to her unless I really need to, and sure won't for anything frivolous, but am I relieved to have someone who may be able to help? Oh, yes! Now, the question is, how much do I tell Craig and the guys, if anything."} She walked over to her desk, looking at the packet she'd brought back with her: contact information for two doctors and a small private hospital willing to work with her guys on injuries the local doctor couldn't handle; diagram of the cottage, showing where things were stored - including food stuffs, medical supplies, and a small wall safe containing both American dollars and British pound notes; a duplicate key to the cottage; a signed letter giving permission to Lynn and each member of the team to take what they needed from the cottage - the letter had been witnessed (but not read, she had been assured) by two of the towns' officials, to be used if they were accused of taking anything in her absence. Finally, in the event that Meghada wasn't there and disaster truly fell upon them, the contact information for her Clan; she had talked with everyone - doctors, hospital, family, everyone - explained what her wishes were, and all had agreed. 

Meghada cursed in silence. It had been close, too close. She had been ready to start the con, moving into position when she saw the other operative, one she recognized from a past mission, already inside the lobby of the small Italian hotel. Sliding into the shadows, she watched as contact was made with the clerk at the desk, watched as the transfer was made. Hastily altering her pose, her expression, she slid thru the open door and spoke quietly to the gruff looking man behind the desk. Giving the password, and seeing his astonished expression, she knew what he would say before he opened his mouth; another had just picked up the information she had been sent to retrieve. As she reached the end of the street, she saw the vehicles come to a screeching halt in front of the entrance to the hotel, and German soldiers pour out, rifles at the ready. She heard the cavalcade of shots as she rounded the corner and fled up the narrow alley. Picking up the trail of the agent, she tailed him long enough to determine he was legitimate, not Gestapo or the like. Just what the hell were they thinking, back in London?

First Aid:  
.  
The medical situation just was not acceptable. First Chief, with that long deep cut over his eye extending into his hairline at the side, turned away by the local doctor, a thin sour man with grizzled hair, with a crisp, "well blot it off and put some pressure on it; what do you expect me to do?" He'd made his way to her back gate, reluctantly, but Actor was in London with the Warden, Lynn off on a mission of her own, and he figured she could help him better than Casino or Goniff; she had a reputation locally for being good at this stuff for the folks who couldn't afford the doctor for minor things, though she always did her work at the garden table, they said, never in the house. The house was off limits to everyone except family, it seemed, and she didn't make many exceptions according to the gossips at the pub. As she cleaned the wound and got ready to put in stitches, she frowned; she was glad to help, glad she'd been here instead of away on an mission, of course, but for the doctor not to see that stitches were needed was disquieting. Maybe he was new and inexperienced; she had never gone to him, of course, {"Outlander doctors aren't for the likes of me if we can avoid it."} and hadn't heard any talk about him one way or the other in the village.

Casino had shown up next; he'd picked up a blistering rash on his hand and arm during the last mission, one that had led them thru thick underbrush before making it back to their vehicle. He'd suffered with it for two days before finally admitting it to anyone, or rather before one of the other guys had spotted his wildly swollen fingers when he'd fumbled his shots on the firing range. He'd been sent into town and had been seen by the grumbling physician, and given a lecture on keeping out of the woods and whatever mischief he'd been up to there, and the evils of malingering, told to apply cold water compresses "if you aren't man enough to handle a little rash", and sent on his way with a deeply sarcastic, "oh, and if any of your lot gets a papercut, be sure to send him over here; I haven't anything more urgent to deal with, you know."

Knowing if he didn't get some help with at least the swelling he'd be of little use if they were sent on a mission, he made his way to where her cottage was supposed to be. Embarrassed, though not sure why, he didn't mention that he'd seen the doctor first, he just asked her for some basic first aid, which she'd provided at that small garden table, along with some creamy pleasant-smelling salve in a small plain glass canning jar. He was so anxious to get help, so relieved she was there and willing to help, he almost forgot to flirt with her. Well, almost.

Her admonishing smile and shake of her head seemed sincere, and he shrugged, {'well, worth a try!'} though what he'd heard about her didn't make her reaction a surprise. She was friendly with him, with all of them when they had a drink at the pub, but there was no flirtation on her part, nothing to indicate she had any interest in any of them, more a sisterly regard. Well, there were others who didn't shake their heads when he flirted, and that wasn't what he'd come here for anyway, and he left with a smile on his face. Within a few hours, the swelling was diminishing, and the itch almost gone. By the time they got the call for the next mission, three days later, there was no trace left.

A few weeks later, Chief reappeared, racing the jeep up to the side of the house, out of view of the village. As she got to the window, she saw him helping Goniff out of the front seat, gripping him around the waist and supporting him as they made their way thru the gate. They stopped once on their way, while the flaxen-haired Englishman doubled over and vomited miserably to the side; she threw open the door, pulled a chair to the ready, and hastened to meet them, calling to Chief, motioning them into the kitchen. Chief lowered Goniff to the waiting chair, holding him upright, as Meghada demanded, "What's happened?"

"He fell on the obstacle course, wind must have frayed the lines in that last storm, and they gave way when he jumped from one to the next, he wasn't too far up but hit his head, messed up his shoulder and arm bad; don't know about anything else, not getting much sense out of him."

"What about the doctor, why here, why not there?"she asked, knowing his injuries needed someone more skilled than she was.

"Already took him there," Chief scowled, "damned quack made it worse, wrapped the shoulder, but pulled him around so hard, yanking his arm so much doing it, think he did more damage. Got him out of there before he could hurt him even worse." One look at the expression on Chief's face told her that he really believed the doctor had done exactly that.

She took a deep breath as she surveyed the small man, pale and wet with sweat, slumped in the chair in front of her. Leaning down, gently she ran her fingers over his skull, noting when he winced, where she felt the swollen ridge along the side, and yet another place roughened and bruised, where his hair was stained slightly with tinges of blood. Brushing his hair back with one hand, she slid her other hand under his chin, tilting his head cautiously so she could check his eyes; looking into his unfocused pain filled eyes; "yes, a concussion for sure."

Chief was watching her carefully; unlike the doctor, she had a gentle touch, real caring in her face, and he took a deeper breath, telling himself that yes, he'd been right to bring his teammate here. Only then did he realize that they were inside the cottage, not at the table in the garden, and he wondered why she'd relaxed her usual caution.

Needing to take a look at his shoulder and arm, she started to undo his tunic and remove it, wondering why it'd been put back on him, {"surely it would have been better to leave it off to better tend him later, and it had to have hurt putting it back on if his shoulder is messed up,"} but even with her being careful, the movement was too much and he groaned and dry heaved. After dealing with that, she pursed her lips and asked Chief to help her, "we'll cut it off, there's no sense in jarring him any more than need be." As they cut away the khaki top, and then the undershirt below, she was appalled at the tightness of the bandages across his chest and around his shoulder; they weren't providing support, she thought, they were punishingly constrictive, especially with the swelling now evident, wrapping the wrong way, pulling the shoulder even further out of alignment. Using the knife to undo the knot, which was too tight to untie, they worked to unwind the long strip of cloth, exposing deep welts in his flesh due to the pressure.

He moaned with relief when the bandage was gone, his head slumping back, but quickly stiffened and tried to pull away as she started to lightly explore the damages with her fingers. She murmured reassurances to him, some in English, some not, and Chief looked at her, frowning now, puzzled, though Goniff opened his half-closed eyes to look into hers, blinked rapidly several times, heaved a deep breath and settled back with a shudder. {"Shoulder is dislocated, not even put back into place before those damned bandages were put on. All the bandages did was . . ."} She couldn't even finish the thought.

She catalogued the other damage she could see, {"these ridges down his upper arm, the way his elbow is twisted. His hand and fingers, the swelling might be from the bandages cutting off his circulation, but those knots in the forearm!"} She frowned, considering, moving back enough to trace her hand and fingers down and around his undamaged arm and hand; yes, unless he'd had some deformity to the arm before, the differences did not bode well. She'd never noticed any such thing, surely she would have, but maybe not, he'd always been fully dressed, long sleeved tunic in place, when he visited her here, so maybe not. She turned and asked Chief about that, and he scowled, "he was fine, he does the light fingered stuff, second story, no way there was anything wrong before. We're in close enough quarters, we'd a seen something like that right off, and we been together a long time now. And that twist at his elbow and below, that wasn't there when I took him in to that quack."

He never even thought that he was revealing more about his team mate than Garrison would approve of; it didn't seem to matter with this woman, and she didn't seem surprised by what he'd said. She thought to herself, off in a far corner of her mind, {"deal with this now, stick with what's important now - but that doctor, yes, later, for sure! I'm not always here, they can't be left without decent medical support. And to hurt him deliberately?!"} Inside, she felt the Dragon snarl.

Moving to the sideboard she grabbed the telephone and quickly dialed a number by heart. "Patrick, get James, I need both of you on the phone now!" She waited impatiently, cradling the phone between her shoulder and her ear, leaning over to wipe her friend's face gently with a wet linen towel, smiling gently down into his glazed eyes, then moisten it again, fold it and lay it gently across the back of his neck, stroking his hair gently.

Chief narrowed his eyes, tilting his head; somehow, there was a familiarity in her touch, one that sharing a table at The Doves just couldn't account for. He thought back to the words she used, not the English ones, nor the ones in that lilting language he thought might be Irish, but the ones he remembered from his early childhood, and wondered that she'd know them; thinking of the meaning of some of those words, he wondered even more at her using them now, with his friend. She moved to the stove to pour Chief a cup of coffee, handing it to him and motioning him to sit in the chair next to Goniff.

Chief watched her, one eye on his friend all the while, steadying him when he wavered, then listened as she related the damages as she could see them to the two men on the other end of the phone. She ended with, "there may be other damage, he took a bad fall, but this is what's apparent right now. This is beyond me, I need help, I need it now! This is Friends and Family time. And no, the local doctor is not the solution, he caused part of this. We can and will discuss him later, without doubt, but not now!"

As Dr Thorpe started to remonstrate with her over that comment, Patrick cut him off; "look, James, she doesn't blow smoke;" (allowing himself a small grin at the old personal joke between himself and his sister, the Dragon) "get over that rosy-eyed view of your professional colleagues and let's deal with the situation at hand before she really gets pissy! Believe me, I'm telling you as her brother, you do NOT want that! An eel in your bed would be the least of it!! Alright, sis, James'll tell you how to get started, while I get our things together."

It would take at least two hours before help arrived, and they certainly weren't going to try having him sit at the table that long; he was barely staying upright in the chair now. Moving together carefully they moved him to the small bedroom, her throwing back the covers, them easing him down into the bed, removing his boots, and after reflection, her having Chief remove his khaki bottoms leaving him only in his boxer shorts, then covered him with the sheets and a light woolen blanket.

Next, to do everything the Doctor had directed them to do: apply the ice, on and then off in twenty minute intervals, in between performing the light fingertip massage the doctor had ordered. "Light, like you're stroking the wings of a butterfly, no harder; you remember, like we had to do with Trianna's baby. You're just trying to keep the muscles below the skin at ease, not let them cramp and tighten; that'll make it easier for me to get things back in place when I get there. DON'T try doing that yourself, not with both the shoulder and the elbow out; there are arteries in there that could give way with the wrong pressure. Give him ice chips, but no water; the concussion means he needs to be kept hydrated, but doubt he'll be able to keep down water, and the straining of throwing it up again he doesn't need from the sound of it!"

Chief had left briefly, racing the jeep to the Mansion to collect Casino; Actor and the Lieutenant weren't back from the debriefing at HQ yet, so they'd phoned and left a message that there'd been an accident and if they weren't at the Mansion when the two returned, then check the cottage. Giving the Sargent Major the barest of details, they hurried back, Chief filling in Casino on the way, his own anger building again with the retelling, with Casino finally telling Chief about his own experience with the good doctor.

Casino had been livid, loud and raging at the sight of his friend in such misery, wanting to go "Talk ta that asshole doctor, up close and personal!", but the other two insisted he was needed here, that the doctor could wait. He was doubly glad he'd stayed, he thought later, when that truly unbelievable conversation occurred. Chief had gone to the kitchen to get more coffee, so he'd missed it. {"Wow, that's gonna be fun to play with!"}, and put it out of his mind til later, when the time was right.

It wasn't nearly soon enough when they heard the car pull up outside, though when she looked at her watch, she realized it had actually been a bit less than two hours between the time the phone call had ended and their arrival. Her brother must have broken every speed limit between here and London, bless his heart. {"I have to remember to tell him that he's my FAVORITE brother, at least for now!"} Shaking with relief, she hurried to let them in. Patrick took note of the strain in her eyes and the urgency in her voice and wondered again, {"she doesn't usually let herself get upset like this, at least she hasn't for a long time now; wonder why this is different?"}

Garrison and Actor arrived at the cottage the next morning; they had received the message after their long debriefing was over, had driven back to the Mansion at dawn to find it empty except for the Sergeant Major who confirmed the whereabouts of the rest of the team, but not able to give much other information. They found Dr James Thorpe and his friend, Patrick, a medical student almost but not quite in possession of his medical degree, still in residence; the cottage next door with two small bedrooms of its own had been pressed into service to give sufficient room for everyone to get some sleep, though they slept in shifts. (It seems the three cottages next door to each were all owned by the young woman; she lived in the one closest to the Mansion, and used the other two for guests, storage and various and sundry other purposes).

Craig and Actor sat at the table in the kitchen having coffee and listening to what Chief and Dr James Thorpe had to say; their faces were tight with anger when they heard all the details, James confirming what Chief had originally claimed; the so-called treatment by the doctor had indeed caused some of the injuries, and made the already existing injuries more severe, and would increase the time needed to heal. Goniff was still in considerable pain, and that would continue for a few days, though hopefully decreasing at a steady pace. Dr Thorpe was leaving behind two precious doses of morphine to be used if needed. The other man, Patrick, interjected, "Sister's herb teas and aspirin, plus lots of ice, may be enough, but just in case. If not for this one, have a feeling you'll find good use for it some other time," leaving Craig to wonder at the statement by Megheda's brother; just what did he know about them?

They'd confirmed that the wiry Englishman would need to be left at the cottage for at least another day, maybe more, before he'd be fit to be moved to the Mansion; there was no reason to move him, she was content for him to stay and knew how to tend him, and moving him now would only make things slower to heal. Actor raised his brows a bit at that declaration by the doctor's companion, seemingly the young woman's brother; that she'd allowed Chief and Goniff in the house to begin with, much less this, well it didn't seem to match what he'd heard, never mind the brother being so unconcerned at the idea of Goniff staying here, the others being in and out helping care for him. Patrick saw the look and was amused by it, though he made sure not to let that show on his face. It hadn't taken him long to realize just where the Englishman stood in his sister's regard. Well, he'd learned long ago not to try and interfere in any of the Clanswomen's business, personal or otherwise, his sisters even more so. If she valued this one, then she valued him, that's all there was to it in his book.

The injuries had been treated, the dislocations - both the shoulder, from the fall, and the elbow from the deliberate wrenching given by the doctor in town - resolved, and the effects from the concussion were starting to ease, though the nausea was still an issue. The wrist and hand injuries were dealt with, and should heal without lasting damage, though Goniff would have to work some to regain his former dexterity; James suggested several ways to help with that. Craig knew he'd have to reassure the little pickpocket that there was time, that he'd not be discarded and sent back to prison because he wasn't currently useful; he was uneasy, though, since he knew there were those who'd delight in taking this opportunity in making it hard to keep that promise. Well, he had some favors he could call in, if need be, and could even indulge in a spot of friendly blackmail if he had to, and for one of his men, he could easily reconcile that with his conscience 

It was another two days before everyone moved back to the Mansion; Craig had gone back that same afternoon in order to keep up with the ongoing intelligence analysis he was expected to do and meetings scheduled with other team leaders. The others rotated between the Mansion and the cottage, helping with Goniff til the nausea was completely gone, and he was deemed strong enough to make the trip without too much pain.

It was an additional two days before Craig had a break from meetings and his rage under tight enough control to go have a 'friendly little discussion' with the doctor in town, rejecting the importunities from the members of his team that they go with him. Tightly controlled, rigidly formal, he was ushered into the office of Dr Riley. Riley was a big, hearty redheaded man, and seemed very congenial and welcoming; Craig was having a hard time reconciling this apparent affability with his actions toward Craig's men.

When crisply challenged, however, Dr Riley's eyes widened with sympathetic understanding and he replied, "Lieutenant, I rather think it is Dr Thomas you came to speak with. I just arrived yesterday afternoon, as a replacement. Seems Dr Thomas somehow managed to mightily offend someone," giving a amused smile, "he was removed and ordered away. I was informed he will not be returning, and I was to maintain this post for the duration." Riley seemed to be holding something back, but obviously didn't intend to be more forthcoming, at least not now. Still, Craig got the firm sense that his men would be in good hands in the future, though a little puzzled over the offhand, "of course, whatever is needed for Friends and Family; that's what I'm here for, after all."

His guys were ecstatic over the news that Thomas was gone and the new doctor quite amenable to treating them, but all of Craig's inquiries as to who arranged that and where Thomas was now went unanswered. He was grateful, but he did wonder. He paid a visit to the cottage a few days later, to offer his sincere thanks for Meghada's timely aid; the young woman had visited the Mansion earlier to check on her recent house guests, but Craig had been still been in London, conferring over the next mission. He knocked at the cottage door, but received no answer, so he just made a mental note to thank her when he saw her next. 

It wasn't til Goniff was up and around, still wearing a sling part of the time, but pretty well up to speed otherwise that Casino made his move. He knew he had one hell of a piece of ammunition, but had held off til the time was right. No fun unless the Limey was well enough to react and be properly embarrassed! Everyone except Lynn was there in the Common Room; Casino couldn't have pulled this off with the Lieutenant's sister there. Actor was reading and smoking his pipe, Garrison playing chess with Chief, Goniff one-handedly fussing with his cards, and Casino, well he was just watching, and waiting to drop his bombshell. 

"Well, Limey, I have ta say ya impressed the heck outta me, didn't know ya had it in ya!" Casino said in a loud voice, catching everyone's attention. Goniff looked up, confused and more than a little cautious; he knew Casino and that look on his face was way too familiar. "Eh, and just 'ow did I manage ta do that?" he asked nervously. Casino declared, "Hell, I wouldn't a had the guts, ya know." By now Actor had set his book aside and was paying proper attention, and the chess players had been drawn in too. Yeah, this was gonna be good!

"Well, back there at the cottage, I mean." He looked around at the other men, then back to the wary Englishman, and continued, "We was waitin' for her brother and tha doctor to show up. You're pretty well outta it, we thought, but then ya kinda come to, and ask the girl where you are. "At the cottage," she tells ya. Ya look around the room, and frown up at her and says, "your bedroom?", and she nods. Ya don't say anything for a bit, but your face is scrunched up like you're a thinkin' real hard, but then ya come out with, "I know everyone says it's real hard ta get here, but no one said anything about it being so ruddy painful." The look on her face! Ya nods up at her and tells her, "Next time lets try it without the ice, okay? Though that thing with the fingers, now that's a bit a alright, we sh'd try that again." THEN, ya look down, and we can see you're sporting a good one, really pillowing up the sheets there," Casino pausing to give a wide grin and enthusiastic double thumbs-up to the wide-eyed Goniff "and ya actually got the guts to look up at her with this shit-eatn' grin and ask her, "Does this mean I've got bragging rights now?" I'm figuring she's going to smother ya with the pillow, ya know, when she lets out sorta a laugh, raised one eyebrow and says "Certainly looks like it." Everyone roars, and Goniff turns a nice rosy shade of pink. Chief, who rarely joined in the ribald sort of humor Casino reveled in, leaned over in Goniff's direction and said, "Remember, gettin' em's one thing; keepin' em's, that's another." And the laughter starts all over again.

It was some time before he returned to the cottage after the incident on the obstacle course. Partly, he was still healing, then once he was healed enough, they went on three back to back Missions. Partly, though, he was embarrassed after the ribbing he'd gotten from the guys over his slightly inappropriate conversation with Meghada when he'd been half out of it due to his injuries; he still didn't remember a word of it, so he had to accept Casino had the right of it; I mean, asking Meghada was out of the question! He was half afraid she'd turn him away without a word if he came over the garden wall, half afraid she'd light into him for saying such things, especially in front of Casino, and if she made no mention of it at all, THEN what was he to do? 

She hadn't just been waiting for him, either; she'd been out on a Mission for Major Richards, been co-opted to another team (she hated when they did that, but had little recourse), then got caught up in a Clan matter, so she hadn't been home and settled more than a day or two when he finally poked his tousled blond head over her wall. "Good morning to you," she called to him with a smile, "a fine morning for a visit, and welcome you are." Yes, a bit more effusive than usual, but she had a feeling he'd be feeling a bit awkward his first time back.

He grinned at her, and she could see him visibly relax. "Any chance for a cuppa?" he asked hopefully.

"Of course, you know where things are. Can you get it started while I put my things away out here?" She intended to gradually let him feel at home here; eventually, she wanted him to feel comfortable enough to come here even when she was gone, if he had a need for some peace and quiet. Why did the picture of coaxing, taming a wild creature of the forest, maybe a fox, maybe a small wolf, come to her mind, she wondered? 

She put her tools away in the small shed, washed her hands at the spigot, and headed into the kitchen. Tea was brewing, everything laid out on the table, including the biscuit tin she noticed with amusement, and himself nowhere in sight.

She found him in her tightly packed library; "have you read all of these, then?" he asked.

"Many, not all of them straight through. A lot of them are for reference, information on the various areas I seem to end up on Missions, information on things I might want to grow, herbal medicines, that sort of thing. I've an assortment of other things I've enjoyed reading before but I've not as much time as I once did for real reading, though I do enjoy it when I have a quiet moment. I do like the comfort of having a place to research something without going up to London if I can help it.:

"Actor spends a lot of time in the library up at the Mansion, always has one or more going, in all different languages, too," he said, somewhat wistfully.

"Anything that catches your fancy?" she asks nodding at the shelves.

"No, that's all beyond me, most likely."

She smiled a bit, "I used to read with my brothers and sisters; we'd pick out something we thought we might like, and take turns. I liked that, I rather miss it; I'm probably not very good at it anymore, though, I'm that out of practice. I have some of our favorites here, though I'd not thought of them in quite awhile." She turned to him eagerly, but shyly, "Would you like to try that some evening? When you tire of music, I mean? Arsenic and Old Lace might be fun, to start, or maybe The Jungle Book; I always liked that one, I remember, and so did my brothers."

Not a hint in her voice or face could he find that she'd decided to either show him up, or educate him, he thought, but an offer to share a bit of fun, just like she had with her music, or the stories she'd tell, or something special she'd baked. "Don't know that I'd be any good at it, but I'd be willing to give it a try," he offered, a bit shyly, with a hesitant smile; he missed reading, hadn't dared do much in prison because of how the toughs looked on someone who spent much time in the library, didn't dare go browsing in the Mansion's library, thinking it out of character for who he was trying to be now. Her eyes shone like he'd given her a diamond necklace, and she gave a happy little laugh. He realized as he smiled back at her, she was seemingly wanting him to come back, and of an evening sometime too. That was something even more tempting than the idea of reading again.

He did feel, however, that he had to clear the air about what Casino had told him, so he mentioned he'd been in for a bit of teasing at the Mansion; that he'd seemingly gotten a bit over the line with her when he was here after the accident, and, he paused, wanted to know if he owed her an apology.

Her eyes met his, she smiled with sheer glee, "No, if anyone, you might want to apologize to Casino. I think he choked on his coffee and almost strangled. I was actually quite impressed," she told him with a slightly sly smile. "You seemed to have a fine grasp of the situation, for not being totally conscious, you know, and I thought it most polite that you actually thought to ASK whether you had bragging rights, not just assuming. I was particularly impressed that you thought to suggest alternatives for 'the next time', as well." She grinned at him, he grinned in return, and they sat down to tea, much in charity with one another..


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alliance continues, and more masks start to slip.

.  
Mission followed mission for the Gorillas, some with Lynn, some not. The outings at The Doves sometimes, not often, coincided with Meghada's presence there; her own schedule of missions had been heavy and she wasn't home very much. When she was, she frequently joined them at their table, always at their request, though, as she made no overtures. Sometimes, it seemed to her, that was the only time she truly relaxed anymore, well, other than when the slender Brit visited, or when she was in her garden, the only time she felt the barriers come down; then again, those same barriers were what had kept her alive and sane (well, relatively) over the past few years, so removing them was sort of a good-news, bad-news thing. For one thing, she was starting to worry when leaving on a mission, that the group might run into trouble at home, might need help, and she'd not be there for them. Really, she needed one more thing to worry about?? Used to be she worried about her missions; then, she started worrying about their missions too; now, she was worrying about them when they weren't even ON a mission. Sheesh! An impromptu call to Ben and Alice Miller, asking them to come see her, helped with some of her anxiety, but it only helped, didn't make it go away. One thing she knew for sure, she was having to be very careful now, to treat them all as individuals but equally, not to let her, shall we say, partiality, show in public. Occasionally Lynn would catch a glimpse, get an inkling, but when she'd look again, all would be as usual, so Lynn put it down to her imagination.

Craig and the guys were gone on a mission, somewhere in Germany, when Lynn was called on to work the con with another group. She came back to the Mansion late one evening, tired and chilled, and after checking to see whether they had returned, finding they had not, she collapsed into bed. Waking slowly, and making her way stiffly to the shower, she mentally tallied all she needed to get done - check the larder for food, talk to the Sergeant Major about the wood supply, see if there was any word about the guys, check with a few people re her other irons in the fire . . . 

She was dismayed by her findings by late morning. The freezer and refrigerator AND the pantry were basically empty, though they had not been when she left, the rations supply had again been 'delayed', and the med kits needed refilling - sulfa, sutures, aspirin, bandages, the works. Penicillin hadn't been available for several weeks, and morphine was a pipe-dream. The only good news was that the wood supply was plentiful, mostly since there hadn't been anyone around to actually use any of it, and the Sergeant Major had prevented Base Supply from confiscating what they had, even though he hadn't been so successful where the food was concerned. A shortage over at the orphanage, he'd said, and she couldn't fault that, except that it left them without any reserves. She'd have to get in food and try to refill the med kit, though she doubted Craig had enough money in the safe to do a thorough job of it; she had some stashed away, she could hit the black market shops in London, a trip of over two hours each way, so she decided to leave that afternoon, planning to spend the night in a friend's London flat. 

Craig called a little before noon; he and the others were on the way back from London. No major injuries, nothing that required a hospital, but it had been a rough mission (it seemed most of them were anymore) and everyone was bruised and battered, cold from the flight, hungry, worn out. Lynn hung up the phone, and just stood there thinking of what she'd found in her morning rounds, silently cursing the military operation that expected so much and gave so little in return. When she realized the silent cursing had shifted to top of her lungs venting, to the slack-jawed dismay of the Sergeant Major, she went into action. She was NOT letting them come home to that sorry state of affairs, not when she had an alternative. If Meghada was home, she'd help; if she wasn't home, well, Lynn had that key to the cottage and carte blanche to take what she needed.

Making a fast call to the cottage, she gave a brief "I need help, I'm on the way." Calculating how long it would take for the guys to get home, she instructed the Sergeant Major to lay a fire in the library and Common Room and light them in plenty of time to have at least those two rooms comfortably warm before the guys got there. Then she made her way to the car, and raced to the cottage.

Meghada heard her coming, wheels sliding on the gravel in the parking space at the side door. As Lynn darted into the kitchen, Meghada worked at grasping the specifics from the tumble of words, "be here in less than two hours. . . Nothing to feed them, med kits are flat . . . No time to get anything . . . Damn brass!" By then Lynn was shaking with frustration and anger, only partly a delayed reaction from her own stressful mission. Quickly Meghada sat her at the table, poured her a cup of overly strong coffee, weakened it to drinkability by mere mortals with a heavy dollop from the cream pitcher, and slid a slice of fresh bread in front of her, along with the butter dish and jam pot.

"Just sit and breathe; it'll be okay." Lynn watched in a daze as her friend, muttering to herself, started moving at double-pace. "Okay, something to tide them over when they come in - something hot and nourishing, something that can be put together really fast. Then, something good and filling for tonight, and then there's breakfast. You can hit the shops and stalls after that, and get in some real supplies. Med kits, whatever I have on hand for now; can replenish the kits tomorrow too."

Soon big metal mesh double-handled baskets and a big cloth duffle were being filled: quart jars packed with turkey meat in broth, additional jars of turkey stock (all from the two birds sent by sister Caeide in the winter enclave shares), quart jars of carrots, beans and peas from the summer garden in back, two large stacks of soft flatbreads from the freezer, a couple bags each of torn bread and cornbread chunks and a bag of tinasie (small pieces and scraps of cooked leftover meats - sausage, ham, bacon - whatever had accumulated over the past couple of months), also from the freezer, eggs, a small bag of storage onions, a bigger bag of storage potatoes - all in all, a goodly portion of her winter stores since she generally cooked only for herself, outside of the baking for her Englishman. She paused to confirm with Lynn that the Mansion kitchen had appropriate cookware, but that spices were evident only in their absence. Muttering, she filled a small basket with cloth bags of dried peppers, both sweet and hot, and small tins of herbs and spices; a rapid trip to the garden yielded what she could quickly gather of the fresh vegetables there; she returned to the pantry for sweet crackers, dried pasta, nut butter and honey, finally grabbing cheese, butter and oil, along with tea, coffee, and sugar. The medical chest she just took in total, dumping it on the floor of the waiting car; the baskets she loaded into the back.

The two women raced the car back to the Mansion, calling on the Sergeant Major to help with the unloading; though he started complaining about 'but these aren't rations', he quickly shut up after receiving matching glares, and a muttered "Damn right they aren't!" from the young woman he knew from the village, the one who worked with Major Richards sometimes, the one from the obstacle course fiasco.

Lynn checked the fires in the library and Common Room, putting out cigarettes and ashtrays, making sure afghans and quilts were draped over chairs, setting out glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Meanwhile Meghada started, as the Sergeant Major described it later to Lieutenant Garrison, "slamming round in the kitchen". Soon two big pots of turkey soup, rich with broth, thick with vegetables and freely strewn with small pieces of turkey, were bubbling away, smelling of sage and other spices, flatbread warming in the oven, and a pot of broth simmering to receive the noodles for the soup. The table was set, coffee at the ready, a pot of tea steeping, and Lynn returning to check on the progress when they heard the car pull up in the drive. 

They came slowly up the steps to the front door, weariness showing with each movement. Actor was limping, as was Chief. Casino was holding his left arm close to his body, and was sporting several bruises to his face. Goniff also was heavily bruised, sporting a split lip and a cut along his jawline. Craig's shirt was bloody down one sleeve, which sported a long cut, and was walking as if his back was out again. All in all, Lynn thought, a sad looking bunch. There was none of the usual banter and skylarking; even the mischief maker, Goniff, was silent and miserable.

As they made their way into the large front room, one by one they raised their heads, taking in the warmth and the comfort of what they now called home. She greeted each of them, touching each of them in turn, on the shoulder, on the arm, brushing back her brother's blond hair.

"There's food on the table in the kitchen, why don't you get some before you do anything else," she urged gently. Always eager for the next meal, Goniff responded with a bit of his old energy, "sounds good, Lynn.", and the others quickly smiled and nodded.

They made their way thru the door, settling in their usual places, and were deep into the big bowls of soup before they noticed anyone else in the kitchen. Craig started to protest; the local women weren't allowed at the Mansion, other than his sisters and the older woman who helped take care of the off-limits areas. Lynn cut him off, telling him "later, brother."

The cons all nodded to Meghada, muttering a tired greeting, but focusing on their meal, all except Goniff, who exchanged a longer, more meaningful look with the woman getting a slight smile in return; she, in turn, after taking in their battered condition, shook her head, and worked on preparing the big pans of turkey and dressing, using the bigger thicker pieces of turkey for that, peeling potatoes to mash for a potato casserole, and putting on green vegetables to steam lightly before turning them into an oven pan to roast with olive oil and garlic, all in time for a solid dinner later. She regretted the lack of variety in the proteins, but meat was scarce, and she had just been fortunate to have enough of the jars of stewed turkey she had prepared earlier in the season to provide for them now. She made a note to ask Caede for more turkeys when they became available.

After they finished, the guys went to clean up and settle down in the warmer areas of the house; Lynn set about making sure their sleeping areas were comfortable and ready, and set out the med supplies from the big kit Meghada had dumped in the car (oh, glory! Sulfa, aspirin, gauze, antiseptic, sutures, penicillin, even morphine, and more) to help with any 'mending' she had to do. She hadn't questioned the quantities or variety the woman had, but Meghada had known the question Lynn had in her mind; she volunteered "I supply those who need it, when I can, especially those the regular channels seem to overlook," with a rather grim look. Followed by a defiant, "No, I'm not black market, I don't charge for any of it, I just make sure it's used wisely. Transfer it all to your kit, if you have a place to keep it safe from the Base scavengers." And Lynn nodded, accepting that as truth, at which the woman relaxed, with a grateful nod. Meghada would get her kit replenished, but for now, this was the best place for what she had stashed.

The kitchen was all set; table wiped, dishes washed and reset in preparation for later, dinner in the oven, just waiting to be dished up when they were ready. Lynn and Meghada had decided that would be better than trying to marshall them to the table at any particular time. If need be, they could eat one by one, though they probably wouldn't; they seemed to congregate as a group automatically any more. Casino joked that was so they could get some before Goniff scarfed the lot. Sweet crackers, nut butter and honey sat on a side counter in case anyone got a sweet tooth, and she was sure Goniff, at least would; he seemed an ever empty trough waiting to be filled, she chuckled to herself. His appetite still surprised her. That thought brought another to her mind, raised a wondering speculation, and she stopped chuckling, took a deep breath, and brought her mind back to the matter at hand with a stern shake.

Breakfast would be scrambled eggs with tinasie and rehydrated peppers, wrapped in warmed flatbreads, with shredded cheese and homemade salsa available, and the fresh sour cream Meghada had made yesterday, more than she'd usually have made but she'd intended to share with Mrs. Wilson and Old Howie; well, she'd just have to make more as soon as she laid her hands on the raw ingredients. Lynn would fix home fries and onions to go with, maybe with some more of the peppers; it would be tasty and filling, and something out of the ordinary for them.

The two women smiled and nodded to each other in warm satisfaction at their efforts, and parted at the door, Meghada heading back to the cottage, Lynn heading upstairs to make sure her guys were settling in. As she mounted the steps, she smoothed her hand over her pocket, feeling the envelope she'd felt Meghada slip inside; somehow she knew she'd be able to do the shopping tomorrow without begging Craig for money she was pretty sure he didn't have. "I think you've gone a good way toward paying off that debt, whatever it was," she murmured to herself with a soft, grateful smile.

***

He'd come thru the gate for once, after supper, as he'd brought back the empty jars and baskets from their emergency meals a few days before. He saw her sitting on the ground in the garden path, and moved over to her, thinking to thank her, only to find her weeping softly. He froze, not sure whether he should leave or stay, but found himself kneeling beside her without making a conscious decision.

"'ere now, what's wrong?" he asked softly, and she just shook her head, unable to speak. He cautiously drew her close, then tightened his arms around her, his head against hers, rocking her gently. He murmured to her softly, he never knew what he'd said, neither did she, but they both knew it helped somehow. When her tears stopped, not because she was done, but because she was exhausted, he helped her to her feet and inside, placing her in one of the kitchen chairs. He fetched a damp cloth, wiping her face, her hands, and had her sip the small glass of bourbon he'd poured her from the bottle in the cabinet. He drew her into the bedroom, told her to get her night things on, and tell him when she was decent; she did so, though she had to think carefully about what night things she actually had, not being accustomed to wearing any, settling on a long cotton gauze housedress. She walked to the bedroom door, he was waiting at the table, and guided her into the sitting area. Settling himself in one of the big oversized chairs, he pulled her in beside him and arranged them comfortably; "try to sleep now," he told her, pulling a light cover over them. {"Yes, the bed would be more restful for her, most like, but I don't think that's such a good idea. She shouldn't be alone, I shouldn't be in there. This'll 'ave to do."}

She woke several times in the night, as sorrow crept in on her, but the warmth of his arms, of his body, comforted her, and she slept again. He never knew what had hit her so hard, and she could not bring herself to speak of it. It was enough that she had needed him, and he had been there for her. It was enough, for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks and appreciation to Wild Clover for her wonderful stories in the Garrison's Gorillas saga. And especially for filling in the blanks as to certain names: Garrison's sister, Terry; the proper name for the Sergeant Major - Gil Rawlins (though if I remember correctly, she got that from someone else, but I cannot find the reference - my fault, and I apologize); and the name of the village, Brandonshire. Please note: I have changed Ms. Garrison's first name to Lynn in the posted stories and in all future stories, so if you read the first two (three?) that made mention of her, please don't get confused. I had written these a long time ago, for my own pleasure long before I decided to start posting, the name just seemed 'hers' somehow, and I should have remembered to change the name as it originated with Wild Clover. My apologies to her and to anyone else who might have been offended.


End file.
